Disjointed Thoughts
by evilkatz
Summary: A collection of drabbles for the live journal community FMA500. Rating to be safe as each story is unique.
1. Default Chapter

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A/N: The following drabbles are my contributions to the weekly challenged issued on the live journal comunity FMA500. The topic for each challenge will be listed.The ratings will vary and a disclaimer will be put on any story where it is necessary. I may not always mention if there are spoilers or not so, read at your own risk. Also, these stories may contain yaoi or shonen ai, that means boys with other boys. Warnings will be posted, but again, read at your own risk. Feedback is always appreciated, but never demanded. Stop by my live journal for updates and various bitching about my life and writing.

Title: What a Lovely Way to Burn

Author: evilkat

Rating: PG

Parings: RoyxEd

Warnings: Shonen ai

Challenge- "Feverish"

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"That will be coming out of you're salary, Fullmetal," Mustang said calmly as he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Edward stared down, wide-eyed, at the crater his fist had left in the antique mahogany desk. The additional strength of the auto-mail, coupled with his spit-fire temper often led to accidents of this nature.

"I'm not paying for your stupid desk!" Edward yelled. "You're the one who keeps provoking me…always calling me 'shrimp' or 'short-stuff' or 'Full-midget Alchemist.' You're lucky that it wasn't your face that was hit by my fist."

Mustang stood up and rounded his desk to tower over the teenager. "That sounded dangerously like threatening a superior officer, Fullmetal."

Not intimidated in the least, Edward shot back, "So what if I am? Walking around here like you're Mr. Know-it-all…you need to be taken down a few pegs."

"Oh, and you're the one who's going to do it, huh?" Mustang asked through a sarcastic laugh.

"Damn right I am," Edward proclaimed as he stood up taller. "We can finish that little competition we started for my evaluation, only this time without the crowds and distractions. Think you can beat me, or are you going to mistake me for another Ishbal refugee and freeze up again?"

That was a low blow, even for an angry Edward Elric. Mustang's eyes widened and he took a small step back, pain and shock clearly displayed upon his face.

"I'm sorry…I…I didn't mean it," Ed blurted out, trying to back peddle out of the insult.

"You can leave now," Mustang stated coldly and turned to walk back around his desk.

"No, wait!" Edward lunged forward to grab the colonel and turned him back around. "Look at me," he demanded. When Mustang refused, he fisted his hands in the lapels of the colonel's uniform and pulled him down so that they were eye to eye. "I'm trying to apologize here…" Edward trailed off upon seeing the hurt reflected back at him in those bottomless, black eyes. He needed to make the colonel understand that it wasn't his intention to be hurtful. Both alchemists complimented each other as well as gasoline and matches. Explosions of this type were almost the norm, but never had it taken such a personal turn.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I sa- mmphf." Edward's second attempt at forgiveness was cut off abruptly by Mustang's mouth closing over his own. And just as suddenly as it began, the colonel pulled back, gaze pointedly on the floor.

"I'm sorry that was…inappropriate of me," the dark-haired alchemist said shaking his head.

"Why?" Edward croaked. Mustang looked up, eyes forlorn. "Ah, screw it," Ed said and leaned in to kiss the Flame alchemist back for all he was worth.

And it burned. Mustang tasted of fire, of smoldering pine on a cold, winter night. The heat that radiated from his lips seared through Edward like a brushfire and shot down into his gut. It left him feverish and light-headed in its wake, and he didn't mind it at all. Not one bit.


	2. Cure For the Itch

Title: Cure for the Itch

Author: evilkat

Rating: R

Parings: Kimbley-centric

Warnings: Some disturbing thoughts

Challenge- "Heretic"

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I love the smell of charred flesh in the morning, or the evening…mid-afternoon's good too. Hell, I love it any time of the day. It is an acquired taste, mind you, one that slowly develops over time, like a fine wine. I can't quite explain properly the almost orgasmic glee that comes from watching a human body explode as though they swallowed a grenade. Or doing it slowly, one limb at a time until the person is begging for the end. In fact, I'm getting hard right now just from thinking about it. 

It's funny; mother always said I had the Devil in me. The first time she looked into my yellow eyes she said she knew that I wasn't natural, that I was evil through and through…a heretic. I guess she was right, but evil is just a matter of opinion, isn't it? I kill for the greater good of the military and of the people we protect. Does that not justify my actions? I'm ordered to kill, to destroy, and so I do. That doesn't mean that I have to hate it.

Of course, this was coming from a woman who used to try and beat the Devil out of me with the wooden handle of a broom. With every strike on my back she would curse the man who fathered me, a man she spread her legs for once those many years ago. Thinking back on all those wasted novenas for her child to see the error of his ways makes me laugh. Like she ever gave a damn about her "Devil spawn" child. If she did she sure had a funny way of showing it. That is, unless the back of a hand or the number of lashes striped upon an unprotected back can measure love. If that were the case, then I guess you could say she loved me very much. I'll never forget the look on her face when I was finally strong enough to turn it back on her. The authorities were picking her bone fragments out of the ceiling afterwards.

The jeep I'm currently lounging in shifts with the weight of another. I look up into unreadable, ink-black eyes.

"We've just received new orders. We're heading to Ishbal," he tells me, monotone.

A smile twists the corner of my mouth. Ishbal, eh? Now, this should be fun. The arrays tattooed into the palms of my hands begin to itch with anticipation.

End-

A/N: The comment about yellow eyes being a sign of heresy was my little homage to Saiyuki.


	3. Black, Two Sugars

Title: Black, Two Sugars

Author: evilkat

Rating: PG

Parings: Roy/Riza

Warnings: None

Challenge- "Impartial"

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Colonel Roy Mustang stared at the steaming mug of coffee placed in the upper right-hand corner of his desk blotter. Every morning, without fail, that mug of coffee was waiting for him, prepared the way he liked it. Black, two sugars. Situated directly below the mug was the morning's edition of _Central Times, _folded in half with a precise crease. On the opposite side of the blotter was a tidy stack of reports and acquisition requests for him to approve and sign. He looked up to the only other occupant of the office as she moved around the room, distributing the day's work.

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was not an unattractive woman. In fact, Mustang found her looks quite appealing. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled up in its usual, efficient style, and her uniform that disguised what he knew had to be a wonderfully feminine figure, was pressed and neat Out of that uniform, she would definitely be the type of woman he'd buy a drink for in a bar. So different than the girls he usually took to his bed, Hawkeye was smart and fiercely independent. If they were a couple, he knew she wouldn't treat him like an accessory, something to drape on her arm like a mink stole. The hash marks on his collar and the medals on his chest caught the eye of the ladies, but that was as deep as the relationships went, and those liaisons often left him with a hollow emptiness that lingered for days.

If things were different, perhaps he could get to know more about this intriguing person. But the military's code of conduct between officers and their subordinates was clear- there was to be no relations, other than professional. Whatever it was that sparked inside of him at the thought of knowing this woman outside of the uniform, had to be doused for both of their sakes.

"Is there something wrong with the coffee, Sir?"

The question startled Mustang from his daze. He blinked a few times and realized that he had been staring intently into the mug before him. He glanced up into soft ruddy-brown eyes. "No, everything's fine," he answered with a broad grin. Hawkeye's eyes widened slightly before she returned a shy smile of her own, and turned back to her work.

Mustang fought back a sigh and brought the mug up to his lips. This would have to do for now. The coffee, the paper, waiting for him in the morning, and everything it symbolized. It would have to do for now.

Perhaps, if things were different, Hawkeye would wear a mini-skirt and her hair down for him. He smiled to himself as he took the first sip of the best damn coffee he ever tasted.


	4. Sunrise in the Garden of Stone

Title: Sunrise in the Garden of Stone

Author: evilkat

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 15

Challenge: "Atonement"

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"Tell me how you did it."

The harsh demand startled Mustang from his guilt-riddled thoughts. He turned his head to the angry face of the young girl that stood next to him, squinting against the rising sun. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed in a tight line. Mustang had been hoping to avoid this very confrontation when he came to Rizenbul to collect a wayward Fullmetal, but the more time he spent in the Rockbell household, the more the remorse he thought was long buried, began to surface. He knew had no right being here and he sure as hell didn't have any right to be standing in front of the headstone of the two people who died at the other end of his military-issue 9mm. Two people who only wanted to help and did what they thought was right, who didn't deserve to have their lives cut short by a bullshit order.

"Excuse me?" he asked calmly, trying to portray the unflappable façade he had spent years honing.

"My parents, how did you kill them?" she spat at him.

To say he was shocked would have been the understatement of the year. When he crawled out of his bed in the wee hours of the morning, and made his way down the dirt-covered road to Rizenbul's only cemetery, Roy Mustang had been unaware that another was following him in the shadows. Which didn't say much for a highly trained solider such as himself, but he felt he needed to come here. He schooled his features carefully before addressing the obviously emotional distraught girl.

"Miss Rockbell," he began slowly, meaning to sound as non-threatening as possible, but she cut him off before he could get started.

"Don't _Miss Rockbell_ me. I've waited ten years for this, and I want answers."

Mustang opened his mouth as if to speak, but there was no sound. How could he tell her what he did? How could he tell her about how her parents begged and pleaded for their lives? Or how her mother clutched the picture of her daughter in a white-knuckled grasp as the bullet from his gun tore through her chest? Or how her father didn't die instantly like his wife, but from a sucking chest wound, gasping, choking, drowning in his own blood as the life seeped out of him? No, he was not that heartless.

"I shot them," he answered simply and her expression softened slightly. "I shot them and I have regretted it every minute of every day since then. Now, if you'll excuse me." He brushed by her with the intention of heading back to the house. No good would come from him staying and answering her questions.

"Wait, Mustang sir," she called after him, her rage ebbing. He paused, but did not turn around. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I would say if I ever met the person who killed my parents," she said to his back. "I wasted so much time hating a person who never had a face or a name. When I found out that it was you…I…I did hate you, but it wasn't the same. You weren't a monster like the one I imagined in my head. You want to change things and…" She paused to take a shuddering breath. "You look after my Edward too. Don't deny it," she added when Mustang's shoulders tightened. "I guess…I guess what I mean is, that while I can't say that I won't always hate you in some way for my parents, I understand things a little better now. I'm sorry I yelled at you before."

Mustang looked over his shoulder at the young girl. She looked so much like her mother and was just as tenacious. He did not smile when he acknowledged her with a small nod, but turned back and continued to walk stiffly along the pebble-strewn path. She was well within her right to hate him, and as long as there was breath in his lungs, he would spend the rest of his day atoning for his greatest mistake.

That thought offered him no comfort; it was just the way things had to be.

End-


	5. A Break in the Routine

Title: A Break in the Routine

Author: evilkat

Rating: R

Parings: Havoc x Mustang

Warnings: Yaoi

Challenge: "Expectations"

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There were many things about Roy Mustang that Jean Havoc had never expected. Take for instance, the colonel's hands. Havoc had long labored under the impression that they would be hot. Not scalding, mind you, but warmer than the average person's hands would be. After all, Mustang was capable of producing flame with the snap of his gloved fingers, so it was a natural assumption that the hands that wielded that fire would also burn as well. Havoc had been pleasantly surprised to discover that they were, in fact, very cool to the touch when Mustang tenderly cupped his face very the first time they shared a kiss.

Havoc had also been surprised that the colonel preferred to be taken, rather than take when it came to their bedroom escapades. It was an ingrained reaction to follow his commanding officer's orders without question. So, Havoc didn't even bat an eye when Mustang asked, with black eyes glazed and a voice husky with passion, to fuck him into the lumpy mattress in his sparse military quarters. And Havoc happily complied with the colonel's order. He was a very obedient solider.

A steady routine was soon developed. During the day, both men were the picture of perfect military decorum. But the nights were a different story all together. The nights were when both men could break free from the imposed restrictions and break each other apart in their own unique way. On those nights, Havoc fucked Mustang for all he was worth because there was nothing between the two of them other than the hours of sweaty, almost primal sex. And Havoc called what they did together "fucking" because that was the term used when two people who had no emotional ties to each other, engaged in all manner of carnal acts. The months carried on and neither one felt the need to look for fulfillment elsewhere. The two never really bothered to question why.

Now, in the aftermath of another rousing and heated session, Havoc looked down at the face that stared up at him, their bodies still joined together. He felt content, numb in the pleasant way that only a post-coital haze can bring. The heady smell of musk and sex swirled in the air around their bed. His thoughts were sluggish and consisted of nothing more than the blissful sleep that surely awaited him. The body beneath him shifted slightly and reached up to run a hand through his spiky blond hair.

"I love you," Mustang said softly.

Havoc's eyes widened considerably. He had not seen that one coming…not in a million years. As his listless mind began to process that information, he realized, with some odd sense of levity, that his own feelings were not were not too far from that same mark. And the thought that _something_ could develop from nothing was most unexpected, not unwanted, mind you, just unexpected.

End


	6. Cauterize

Title: Cauterize

Author: evilkat

Rating: PG

Pairing: Ed/Al

Warnings: Angst

Challenge: "Ash"

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Edward Elric stood beside the empty suit of armor that now contained his younger brother's soul, watching as the only home they ever knew slowly burned down to the ground. They had walked to the edge of the property to be safe, but even at that distance; Edward could feel the heat from the blaze on his face. But Al couldn't. Al couldn't feel anything anymore.

Ed squeezed his eyes shut tightly to prevent the tears from spilling out. _You're doing this for him. This isn't about your arm or leg anymore…this is for Al. _

For his little brother, he had agreed to become the military's dog, to always be at their beck and call. The thought that he would be under the command of others made Edward grind his teeth together. He was never very good at following orders. But at this point, he would have agreed to anything if it brought him one step closer to restoring Al back to his original body.

The windows in the front sitting room exploded from the heat of the flames. That was where the two if them had started the fire. It was the same room where their mother would tell them stories in front of the fireplace when the nights were cold. Edward thought about how the fire was now eating away the pretty wallpaper with the little blue flowers on it that decorated the walls in that room, or the pictures of him and Al as babies that lined the foyer.

He heard Al gasp, it sounded so incredibly vulnerable, as the roof began to collapse inward with a horrible groan. The wooden support beams splintered and gave way. All their memories, everything that didn't fit into the suitcase at his feet, were going to be gone forever. Ed swallowed hard at the finality of it.

In a strange, macabre way, the sight of the bright orange flames dancing and weaving their way through the rubble was almost beautiful. Edward's scientific mind computed the elements and equations it took for such an event to occur.

_Wood is composed of 79 combustibles and 21 water and ash. First, the water boils off, and then at 450°F, the wood particles begin evolving volatiles. Carbon ignites between 765°F and 1115°F, the volatiles, which include Hydrogen, Methane, Ethylene, Ethane, Benzene and Carbon Monoxide, ignite within a range of 1000°F to 1300°F…the floor in the kitchen was wood. The stairs were wood. Everything in the house was wood. _

Hours later, when their home was reduced to nothing but smoldering ash, Edward forced himself to turn around and begin to walk away.

"C'mon, Al, let's go."

Edward heard the heavy footfalls of his brother behind him as he trotted to catch up. They had both agreed that burning away their ties to the past would force them to keep moving forward, but that didn't quell the tightness in his chest. Edward wondered what Al was thinking at this moment and would it compare when he had no physical reaction to his emotions anymore. Another stab of guilt tore through his gut.

_I will fix this, Al…I promise._

"Brother? Do you think we should have kept something? A picture of Mom, maybe?" Al inquired softly as he walked beside Edward.

"We have our memories. That will have to keep us going," he answered flatly, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.

He didn't tell Al about the picture that he had hidden in the lining of the suitcase. He had taken it from the table inside their father's study because it was the only picture of the entire family together. Perhaps when the feelings weren't still so raw, he would take it out and show Al, and they could remember what it was like before all this. Remember a time when Ed's smiles weren't forced like they were now, and his golden eyes weren't so haunted. Maybe on that day, a pair of grey eyes and a head full of dirty blonde hair would be able to reminisce with him. That was the reason for doing all of this, after all.


End file.
